The date of my RTB hearing has passed. And the verdict is…
Continue reading “This ain’t my first inaccessible rodeo.”Category: indoor adventures
I just wish I had her sweet, sweet, s-s-sweet can.
I have not given up on blogging. Other things have occupied my time, such as Jordi and more Jordi. Also, trying to win over his cat, Klaus:

Much ado about not much.
As much as I enjoy sharing my thoughts, I like learning about other people too. I realized how much I miss the golden era of blogging while looking through Instagram (NOW OWNED BY META!). How is that, despite still being in a pandemic, everybody seems to be having an excellent time. IN NOVEMBER? Fuck off.
Continue reading “Much ado about not much.”Lower than lowbrow.
It’s official: I’m a regular at Canadian Tire. I guess this is because I no longer have instant access to tools, 99% of which belonged to Yann. I’m surrounded by tools every day at work, so on my days off, my hands start shaking from withdrawal. I am slowly building my tool collection: pink, 75% smaller, and 200% more expensive, of course. Stainless steel and black rubber are so unladylike, ew.
My latest trip to obtain made-in-Asia goods from Canadian Tire was for L-brackets and screws to reinforce my fancy bedside table:

It’s a workaround for Ikea’s MALM bed frame, which has poorly thought-out full-length drawers on the sides. If I were to use a regular four-legged bedside table, I wouldn’t have access to my pants unless I move the table! And I can’t be Porky Pigging it. I also need a table to support my nightly hydration operation.
When I moved into my current place, this table had to be cut shorter because it blocked the bedroom door from swinging open. I can’t access the drawers on the other side of the bed either as that side is against the wall, which gives you an idea of how dinky my place is.
Now that I’d made this table functional and sturdy with the addition of L-brackets, I could concern myself with its presentation.
While I have a tool deficiency, I have a sizable collection of art supplies, including a bottle of pouring medium that I’d bought years ago for one project. If you know what you’re doing, the result can be something like this:

I’d painted the wood black. My next plan was to turn the top into a psychedelic pool of colours!
Instead, I turned it into a puddle of despair. I’d tilted and rotated the surface to get even coverage. When this wasn’t happening, I poured more paint into the gaps. It got progressively uglier as I attempted to correct the mistakes.

That escalated quickly.
It was shaping up to be a slow week when it seemed that trying Icelandic yogurt (skyr) was the most exciting thing I did all week. The thrill lay within my lactose intolerance: Is this going to cause gastrointestinal distress? Will it be worth it? (It was delicious.)
Then on Friday night, I started painting the modeling clay tongue that I made earlier in the week. I’d pierced it with two barbells while the clay was still soft. To make painting easier, I removed the jewelry and placed them in one of the wells of my paint tray so that they wouldn’t roll off my adjustable desk. I forgot about this when cleaning up: I dumped the tray in the kitchen sink and washed the leftover paint down the drain, along with the barbells.
I was not high when I did this. Truthfully, I hadn’t realized what I’d done until I was high.
